


Diaries of a Changeling

by sylph_feather



Series: Monsters and Men [3]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Monsters, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Diary, F/M, First Person, Gen, It’s a Diary fic my lads, Swearing, abuse and misuse of italics, changeling!veronica, demon!J.D., sorry about that hah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylph_feather/pseuds/sylph_feather
Summary: Dear Diary, I am so done with this magical bullshit.





	Diaries of a Changeling

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all should read the 1st one in the series but nothin else is required reading. Enjoy.

_Dear Diary,_  
Mr. No-Name-Kid smells weird.

That sounds kind of rude— it’s in a good way! Kind of like smoke from a barbeque or something.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
J.D. (Mr. No-Name-Kid) drank slushies with me at a 7-11 and told me all about his horrible but delicious coping mechanism.  
I think the way he smells means something. That… that sounds weird. What am I, some psychic lead by scents?  
What I mean to say is that I think J.D. might have something… off about him. Like me. Supposedly, fae can sense other beings of magic, at least according to whatever crackpots wrote those library books. Considering they’re likely fae who ran away or one of those humans weirdly obsessed with magic ‘cuz it’s evil or cool, it might not be accurate, but I take what I can get.  
I won’t say anything, it seems kind of rude. It doesn’t matter if he is or isn’t, anyways.  
Is it bad that I sort of hope he is?

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Do you think it’s worth the risk to transform and fly to Seattle? I’m about to be discovered anyways, so I might as well give my best shot in blowing this town, even though I’ll probably get caught mid-flight, taken to the authorities and trialed as an unregistered changeling.  
This would be easier if I owned a motorbike or car, or something.  
I guess I’ll just go apologize to Heather and beg she doesn’t tell the school. If push comes to shove I can always just fly away. That would suck, though. I like it here.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Holy shit, we just killed Heather Chandler.  
It was an accident!  
I feel terrible, though…  
But maybe not as bad as I should?  
And that makes me feel worse.  
I guess my secret being revealed isn’t a problem anymore.  
It’s not worth it.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
I kind of put thoughts of the whole “J.D. is a fae too” thing on the backburner because of the, you know, murder.  
I still feel bad about that. At least Chandler seems happy with her newfound popularity in death? She’s still a really noisy spirit though. Hopefully she’ll pass on soon, because right now she’s screaming in my face.  
See? There go those thoughts to the backburner, again. Maybe I’ll just leave them there.  
Like I said, it doesn’t really matter.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Do you think I would be caught if I gave Ram and Kurt a good scare in dragon form? Maybe I’ll get those bitchy Heathers for volunteering me for date rape, too.  
There’s nothing more convincing than a dragon screeching at you to stop, I think.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Ram and Kurt told everyone at the school about our supposed “sword fight.”  
Great.  
I don’t actually want to write about this. It makes me want to cry again.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Three of my classmates are dead. My teenage bullshit has a body count.  
They may have been horrible people, but they didn’t deserve this.  
What if I’m next, now that I’ve become more horrible than them? What happens if I tell J.D. to stop?  
Will I be part of that count?

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Today’s the day. I’m going to stand up to J.D.  
They were just seventeen, he can’t keep going like this.  
I have to fix him, fix us.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
It worked!  
J.D. has agreed to stop.  
Also, he’s some manner of demon. That’s something.  
I feel overloaded. ~~And still scared. Why am I still scared?~~  
We may be damaged but we certainly can’t be pulling this shit. We would make ourselves worse, prove they’re right about fae. We’d be worse than them, worse than anyone.  
We can be good again.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
We can’t be good again.  
I have to stop him.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
I’m alive. J.D. is not.

_\--_

_Dear diary,_  
Hopefully the police don’t use this book in court, if they ever find out this whole situation, because that would be very unfortunate.  
My need to vent trumps my rationality, I guess. And it’s doing so yet again.  
That day, J.D. came in my window, rambling on about how our love was God, how we could accomplish so much and better the world.  
I should’ve seen it coming, really. The last week he had taken a slow slide back to his normal attitude, though he took no actions. I didn’t notice at first.  
By the end, maybe I just didn’t want to notice.  
Well, then he launched into how he built a bomb to blow up the school while banging on the closet door, begging to be let in and I couldn’t just let that happen to  
Martha and McNamara and all those other people could I? So I faked my suicide.  
He was so sad.  
He held a gun in his hand to kill me if I didn’t agree, yet he was sad to see me dead.  
With him on his way to blow the school to kingdom come, I transformed and ran after him, to fight on more even ground and even warn people if I wasn’t too late.  
I was almost too late, so that last bit didn’t really work as well as a I hoped.  
Transforming felt... amazing. Of course there wasn’t really any time to enjoy it but... still.  
Well, we fought, and he sort of smoked himself all over the place.  
Except it seems like his main body needs to remain at least partially solid, considering I managed to stab him while thrashing about, and that was that, as far as I knew at the time.  
Anyways, I flew up with the talisman-bomb and was ready to die a big dramatic death, and I didn’t even write a suicide note. Irony is the best punishment.  
Then that fucker pops up again and smiles at me and takes the bomb. I just sort of complied, too stunned to do anything, which seems to be a recurring theme in my life. Really, I just didn’t want to die, and I guess I didn’t really consider until too late that him taking the bomb meant he would.  
He exploded.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
Miraculously, nobody seems to know it’s actually me that was the dragon.  
People are idiots and my paranoia was for nothing. I even stayed at Martha’s house for several days trying to avoid my parents! They just ate up the lie that it wasn’t me, but rather a mischievous drake that made a spectacle of itself with a big boom, which I guess is believable enough considering I wasn’t exactly acting like myself, and fae do so love their mischief. Now I feel like stupid.  
Well, speaking of Martha... I guess it’s not nobody, considering her and McNamara know. I sort of walked right up to them and changed.  
I was done with bullshit that day, is what it came down to. Out of fucks, completely and utterly.  
Thankfully they’ve been very kind about it. What have I done to deserve such great people as friends? I really don’t deserve them at all.

_\--_

_Dear Diary,_  
It’s not a fantasy happy ending but... I’ll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing a long first person fic so feel free to be harsh on it  
> Scream to me on tumblr @ sylph-bird-63  
> Also, PLEASE I LOVE PROMPTS! If you could come up with something that you want for this universe, that would be amazing.


End file.
